


P.Y.T.

by 1roomdisco



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Character Study, Fluff, M/M, Rated M Just To Be Safe, Romantic Friendship, i'm so essited for this pls support me, yifan is FUCKN SMITTEN haLp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 12:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1roomdisco/pseuds/1roomdisco
Summary: “To keep it short, I’m starting to suspect that my heart doesn’t want to let him go.”Or:The anticipated sequel tois your way mine?





	P.Y.T.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeolmisc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeolmisc/gifts).



>   
>   
> * could have posted sooner but werk is killing me
> 
> * only your kudos and comments can keep me alive  
> [and this album](https://open.spotify.com/album/278ZE63sldNBIvueCAANl0)
> 
> # WHO'S WITH ME IN THIS RIDE?
> 
> # gonna be a longass one, been thinking to expand the story  
> after P.Y.T. ends, there will be more of this universe i mean chanyeol's internship gonna end soon--whOops
> 
> * so pLeAse, leave a comment  
> idc just a 'hi' or an emoji is enough to hype me tf up lol 'is your way mine?' has 17 subscribers so i hope the comments will live up to that number
> 
>    
>   
>   
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _His hair sure grows fast,_ Yifan thinks as he stares at the back of Chanyeol’s dark brunette head. His sleep-heavy mind is reminded of the elevator incident; Chanyeol’s hair was a lot shorter back then and Yifan could see his nape easily. Right now the strands of Chanyeol’s silky hair are already splaying on the light grey of his pillow sheet and the slope of Chanyeol’s long, white neck is delicate. There’s no other word to describe how the line is soft, not firm, connecting the rest of Chanyeol’s skin that’s hidden beneath the silk pajama he’s wearing and the duvet held high up to his waist.

Yifan has a type.

He has always liked tall women who look good in feminine cut, black slacks or any bodycon dress. Their straight, black hair is usually down to their shoulders, without fringe. He doesn’t have any particular preference towards full or thin lips, but he’d rather have them not wearing fake nails. Those are scary and impractical; from what he can see. Pretty nail paints are more than okay. Simple heels without weird ornaments and some classic white sneakers and he’s down, really.

When he was younger, just about twelve or thirteen, he liked petite girls wearing glasses. In high school he liked them the prettiest of their year, but mostly the shy and silent type. He went for a more outspoken girls during university, but there was only one who could really break his heart for a while. She was everything he had thought he always wanted until then, but nobody told him that getting your heart broken at twenty-four was going to be fun.

Chanyeol is not even a woman to begin with, yet here they are.

Yifan wonders if his blank—zen, more like—state of mind is him regretting what they did, which was _mindblowing_ to be quite honest; he was glad his first time with a guy was with a very delightful dongsaeng who can make him do anything _with_ just one look of those doe eyes.

Huh.

Yifan blinks. He moves to rest the side of his head on one palm, frowning at the steady ups and downs of Chanyeol breathing.

But then again, it’s true? He loves teasing the younger man, receiving a cute pout and a witty counterattack in return. Then they will throw more banters and it’s either Yifan yielding by promising to do (or buy) something for Chanyeol, or Chanyeol whining that he doesn’t mean it. Last night was their first kiss. And it wasn’t that Yifan didn’t dare to initiate anything. In his mind what they had been doing, all those fake-dating shenanigans, he treated those as real dates from the second time. Gah. Yifan is _sure_ Chanyeol himself is aware of the impact he has on him, they both… are playing the same game. They are on the same page. They know what they are doing.

He wouldn’t bother to drive and pick just _anyone_ when they asked him to, alright?

Yifan shakes his head. He moves slowly to sit up, and a quick glance to the digital alarm clock on the shelf above his head is telling him that it’s almost 10 in the morning.

From this angle, he can see that Chanyeol has one cheek smushed to the back of his hand; his pink, pouty lips impersonating Mrs. Puff, Spongebob’s neurotic driving instructor. Classic show. His favorite. Yifan smiles, wishing for his phone—which he’s not so sure if it’s still in the front pocket of his black trousers or what. What happened last night escalated pretty quick; he didn’t manage to tend to his strewn clothes, only Chanyeol’s (they’re in the dryer)—and then after that he cleaned Chanyeol and dressed him before he could finally take a quick, hot shower, changing to a frayed, black The Cure t-shirt and a pair of decade old basketball shorts, also black with twin white stripes on the sides.

The aircon is on. Yifan feels like making coffee but the bed is too warm and comfy. The blinds on the window above the bed are shut, but the one on his left aren’t, telling him that it’s a sunny Sunday. He wonders if Chanyeol has to go to church?

Yifan is yawning when Chanyeol moves his body to the other side, facing him and flinging one heavy arm over his waist. His jump startles Chanyeol, and he’s holding his breath when Chanyeol blinks awake.

The grin on Yifan’s face is automatic because he swears he’s never seen such cute sight in his bed before; there’s a reddened sleep mark on Chanyeol’s cheek and his unfocused orbs are narrowed. Yifan lets out a chuckle when Chanyeol sighs, closes his eyes, seems to have fallen asleep again only to gasp loudly like he’s the main character in any anime.

Their eyes meet.

Chanyeol squeals like a kitten, pulling the duvet until he can hide his face from view. He’s folding his knees to a fetal position, and it takes all of Yifan’s willpower not to, you know, _hug him_ , or something.

“Hey.” Yifan decides that poking one finger to Chanyeol’s covered hand is fine, so he does just that.

Chanyeol whines like he wishes Yifan can undo what he just did.

Yifan laughs, loud. Like he’s invincible.

“Did you have a good sleep?” he asks, hiccupping, biting the knuckle of his thumb, wanting Chanyeol to just grace him with his pretty face or else.

The lump that Yifan assumes is Chanyeol’s head is moving.

“Good.” Yifan hums, climbing out the bed from his side. It’s cold, but the wooden floor feels solid. He stretches his arms, grunting as his joints pop. He’s putting his hands on his hips when Chanyeol peers from behind the duvet, and when their eyes meet again Chanyeol doesn’t look away.

Yifan’s heart skips a beat.

He says, his smile just keeps getting wider, “I’m making pancakes for breakfast. Any special request? I have maple syrup and peanut butter and blackberry jams, I guess.”

“I…” Chanyeol mumbles, “can I shower first?”

“Of course, baby.”

And it’s fun that they both are grimacing at his slip. Yifan should be embarrassed, but nah. It’s cool. He doesn’t mind.

“Let me just use the toilet real quick,” he says in a hurry, and doesn’t wait for Chanyeol’s response. He relieves his bladder, washes his hands and face with cold water and rinses his morning breath with mouthwash. He doesn’t bother drying his face with a towel, and he goes straight to the kitchen.

From his peripheral vision, he can see that Chanyeol is shuffling around. Is he… is he taking the duvet with him—yeah, he is, using it as a cape, stepping on it twice as he walks pass towards the bathroom and whines when Yifan can’t help but to snort at his clumsy attempt at, what, being modest? It’s cute.

Yifan prepares two batter flavors because he likes chocolate pancakes and making pancakes is what he does best. Also, before you ask, he’s not using instant pancake mix, thank you very much, he’s making everything from scratch.

He doesn’t remember if his Alexa is activated, but he feels like listening to Perfume.

“Alexa?” he nods in satisfaction when the AI responds to him. “Please play ‘One Room Disco’ by Perfume.”

His chocolate pancakes batter is ready. He’s stirring the plain pancakes batter when Chanyeol emerges from the shower during ‘Handyman’, smelling like his favorite saltwater and lemon body wash.

“Perfume?” Chanyeol asks, hair only slightly damp. He’s folded the duvet, putting it back on the bed.

“The one and only.” Yifan answers. He opens the refrigerator to get a chunk of organic, unsalted butter and asks, “Would you like chocolate or plain pancakes?”

Chanyeol is scanning the room, and finds his phone on the dining table. “Can you mix them for me?” his voice is a lot quieter than usual, and he’s using his phone as an excuse not to look at Yifan. Hmph. It’s fine, still. Maybe he needs more time. Maybe he’s not the type to stay for breakfast. Or maybe he’s not the type to have a one night stand at all? Dang.

“That’s a great idea.” Yifan chimes, wasting no time to work on it. He scoops almost half of the chocolate batter into the plain bowl, because he hasn’t thought of mixing them before and he’s going to make it taste good for Chanyeol. And himself. He’ll just keep the rest of the chocolate batter for tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Chanyeol spots his glass from last night and asks where the water dispenser is.

“Right by the refrigerator, that platinum thing. It’s automatic.” Yifan says, heating up the pan. “Apple juice?” he offers, looking at Chanyeol bending his knees to place the glass on the space provided. The water looks refreshing.

Chanyeol juts out his bottom lip, just the slightest. “Apple juice? Do you want a glass, hyung?”

Yifan smiles, adding half a block of butter. “No, I mean, if you want,” he says, making the first two pancakes on the sizzling pan.

“Oh.” Chanyeol blushes and lifts his glass to his lips. He takes the tiniest bit of sip then he says, _No, thank you,_ his big but pretty hands are dwarfing the glass.

So cute. Yifan wants to pinch his cheeks or something.

Chanyeol goes to sit on the bar stool nearest to the refrigerator. He spins three times before he stops with slightly widened eyes (yes, Yifan is keeping count).

Yifan asks as he flips the second batch of pancakes, “How many should appease your appetite?”

Chanyeol is spreading his long legs so he can put his hands on the space between his thighs, his shoulders are raised up and he’s probably kicking his legs. His pretty face is finally relaxed when he says, “I like odd numbers.”

Yifan nods. “Nine, then.”

“Hyuuuuung…” Chanyeol giggles, but cuts himself short by pressing his hands to his cheeks, keeping them there as he says, “Hust three, pwease.”

Yifan serves Chanyeol’s pancakes and the condiments on the bar. He makes another batch for himself, and blinks in confusion when he sees Chanyeol hasn’t touched his.

“I don’t like maple syrup. I don’t like fruit jams.” Chanyeol sounds disheartened by his own acquired taste, like he doesn’t want to appear to be a difficult guest in front of Yifan. “Do you have Nutella?”

“I don’t think so.” Yifan opens a random cupboard on his right. “Wait, I have Hershey’s chocolate syrup?”

“Juseyo~” Chanyeol says without thinking, maybe, defenseless, looking so adorable with his opened palms clasped together. So lethal that Yifan _almost_ —he’s thisclose to coo, to call him ‘baby’ again. Yifan gives the chocolate syrup to Chanyeol, bopping his cute nose.

“Strawberries?”

“Please, hyung?”

“Since you ask so prettily…” Yifan chuckles, turning off the stove. He opens the refrigerator to get the strawberries and apple juice out. He washes the strawberries and cuts them to thin slices.

They eat in silence. Mixing the chocolate and plain pancakes batter turns out to be delicious. He says so to Chanyeol, who blushes for no apparent reason, nods, then gives Yifan his stiff back. As much as Yifan loves seeing Chanyeol’s white nape…

“Hey, hey, none of that.” Yifan clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, unconsciously loosening his grip on the fork he’s holding. He contemplates to poke Chanyeol’s waist just for laughs, but nah. If they didn’t sleep together, maybe he could do it, but they _did_ sleep together and this is his Park Chanyeol’s Uncharted Territory. He doesn’t want to annoy Chanyeol with their usual banter.

“Is something bothering you?” he chooses to ask the most general question.

And Chanyeol is only answering after a moment of hesitation, “No, hyung.”

Yeah, _same_. Nope.

“Convince me.” Yifan uses his Mildly Serious Tone, one that he uses when he thinks Chanyeol’s best friend, Byun Baekhyun, Is Not Taking It Seriously (mostly during client visit).

Apparently, his patented Mildly Serious Tone also works on Chanyeol.

Chanyeol huffs. He actually huffs _and_ stomps his foot like a petulant child before he plops down sideways on Yifan’s lap, pulls his plate and continues eating his mixed pancakes drenched with Hershey’s chocolate syrup like he didn’t just make Yifan the happiest man on earth or something.

Yifan is glad that Chanyeol can’t _see_ his idiotic grin as he repositions the younger man so he can have his own pancakes in peace; he rests his left arm on Chanyeol’s upper thighs, apologizing when Chanyeol shudders at the slightest touch.

“Is this okay?” he asks, lifting his left hand just in case. Their faces are a good thirty centimeters apart, with Yifan having to look up slightly to Chanyeol, a perfect view.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol whispers, keeping their eye contact, “I’m heavy.”

Yifan grins, hopefully handsomely. “You weight like a doll, don’t worry.” And gets an elbow to his chest for that.

Chanyeol shushes his protest when he insists to cut Yifan’s pancakes for him. Yifan lets him, enjoying his weight and warm presence, wrapping his left arm around Chanyeol’s waist.

They eat in a peaceful silence, and Yifan says after his last bite,

“Your clothes should be dried out now.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

Yifan barks a laugh, jostling Chanyeol. Chanyeol squeaks, grabbing his shoulders for balance just as Yifan is holding onto the edge of the marbled bar, securing Chanyeol on his lap.

One second they’re sharing rapid heartbeats, and in one blink of an eye later they’re kissing with their eyes closed, unhurried, making sure the angles are perfect for their lips to be slotted together. Chanyeol makes a low, keening sound from the back of his throat when Yifan slips his hands into his pajama, stroking the juts of his hips with his thumbs.

The swift change of intensity, of tongues and teeth, makes Chanyeol cling even tighter to Yifan. He pushes and sucks, already grunting and going pliant.

Yifan swivels the stool he’s sitting on, resting his back against the marbled bar or else they will fall down. Chanyeol gets to his feet, disconnecting their lips in a loud smack, staggering a little when he tries to climb back to Yifan’s lap—but with his high-pitched whine and stubborn self determination, he’s back to Yifan’s lap, securing his thighs on the either side of Yifan’s hips.

Their teeth knock, but it doesn’t deter them from continuing to devour each other’s lips like they’re on borrowed time. Which is not good, Yifan thinks in between palming a handful of Chanyeol’s ass and tasting Hershey’s chocolate syrup from Chanyeol’s tongue.

He has to growl like an animal before he can push Chanyeol away, apologizing with his gentle hands holding onto Chanyeol’s wrists.

“I’ll drive you back later.” Yifan murmurs, kissing the inside of Chanyeol’s left wrist and the heel of his palm, before dragging his lips to inhale Chanyeol’s soft fingertips. “Tell me what you want to do.”

“I want this.” Chanyeol answers without missing a beat, voice low—not desperate, not even close—but there’s a hint of strong wantwantwant from his dilated eyes. He’s pressing his thumb to Yifan’s bottom lip, dragging it to the corner, his fingers are digging on the skin of Yifan’s neck.

“Be clear.”

Chanyeol wants to stay like this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s safe to say that Yifan is surprised when he _realizes_ Chanyeol is clearly showing signs of ghosting him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s fine for the first three days. He can live with Chanyeol leaving his baby animal videos and super dank memes on read.

It’s only fine mostly because Chanyeol isn’t posting anything on Instagram, either. No cryptic text post on Instagram story or emo lyrics whatsoever; so Chanyeol is not the type to throw hints to his twelve something thousand followers about his regret. The downslide is, perhaps, no selfies and no cute stuffs like that one time when Chanyeol posted an Instagram story about what’s the difference between peach and terracotta blush that he stole from his older sister’s makeup pouch.

And then it becomes a huge blow when Yifan is sure he’s catching glimpses of Chanyeol from the corner of everything; the main hallway where Chanyeol’s desk is located yet he never sees him there, by the speed gates just right on time with everyone flocking out for lunch time—and just now, in the male restroom, where Yifan swears he heard a baritone squeaking that belongs to Chanyeol. Yifan wants to run to him, telling him that he finally noticing the randomly placed strawberry-flavored energy bar on the floor.

By the fifth day, Yifan has had enough. Questions, mostly. Worrying over what would happen next, which is also a first. Mature women aren’t clingy. It bothers him that he doesn’t know what to do with a slightly younger guy who can make him do anything _with_ just one look of those doe eyes.

Consulting Naver, Google and Reddit could only do so much. He feels embarrassed as he closes the Reddit tab in his Safari; he just read yet another pathetic nice guy wondering what did he do wrong to make his dream girl ghosting him.

In such trying times, a third-party opinion should do.

 

**12:19**

**Wu Yifan**

Yo

You ever get ghosted?

 

**12:20**

**Lu Han**

Wtf never

Sup?

 

**12:22**

**Wu Yifan**

So I’m like seeing someone

We work together, different div

Should I wait some more?

 

**12:22**

**Lu Han**

Interesting

Explain

 

**12:23**

**Wu Yifan**

It’s a guy btw

 

Yifan picks up the call on the third ring. Typical. Lu Han will always have time for him.

“ _YAH!_ ” Lu Han yells to the receiver. He’s laughing obnoxiously. Also nothing new. “ _Yah, Wu Yifan! How long has this been going? And you didn’t even tell me_ ANYTHING?”

Yifan grins. He’s eating lunch at the staff cafeteria, still foolishly hoping to get to see Chanyeol but it’s been five days in total to no avail. Obviously, Chanyeol is smart. He’s either bringing lunch from home or going out to have one with his best friends or the lovely ladies from Regional Division 1.

“Calm down, remember your age,” he switches to Chinese and takes a sip of the hot, black tea.

He can picture Lu Han with the maniacal look in his pretty eyes swearing at whatever object he’s staring wherever he is right now. “ _Shut up. You’re younger than me_ by six months _, you still have to tell your gege everything!_ ”

“Yeah, I’m trying to. Please stop yelling, Lu.” Yifan snorts, leaning back against the plastic chair.

“ _Fine,_ ” Lu Han pffts, but it’s as clear as the sun shining that he’s leering. “ _Alright, I’m calm but what the hell? You’re sleeping with a guy now? What’s he like?_ ”

“What? In bed? Like I’d tell you.”

“ _Christ. You’re serious about him. Gimme a name at least._ ”

Yifan smiles.

“I’m pretty sure his Chinese name is ‘Chanlie’,” he breathes, clearing his throat to tone down The Obvious. “He’s the prettiest. Looks nothing like you, though, thank God. He’s around my height. His voice sounds like it’s coming from a cave.”

Lu Han hates to be reminded of his lack of masculinity, a trait that he compensates with his shitty personality and potty mouth. Wonder what Minseok sees in him, really.

“ _Thanks, every day I still pray for the facial hair that will never grow,_ ” Lu Han replies, his soft voice is heavy with sarcasm. “ _What was it? Chanlie? Chanyeol, then. Send me his pics._ ”

“I will. But back to the major problem at hand. He’s ghosting me.”

“ _Aww, what did you do?_ ”

“I wish I could tell you.”

Lu Han giggles. “ _Gross!_ ” he says, fondly, and continues in a more serious mood, “ _But are you okay? How long has it been going?_ ”

“We—okay, listen, it’s kinda long. Sorry.”

“ _Nonsense, come on._ ”

Yifan puts down his chopsticks, thanking his luck to have the best lifelong friend like Lu Han. Maybe he should move to a quieter place because suddenly he doesn’t have the energy to finish his chicken katsu lunchbox anymore.

He cups a hand to cover his mouth and says, “Chanlie asked me to pretend that we’re dating, because there was already a rumor about us. I guess I got smitten. He’s just so pretty and cute. He’s not intimidated by me? Not treating me differently? I mean, maybe because he looks like _that_ himself, ha ha ha. And he listens to the same bands, Lu. That’s like, a hundred plus points for me.”

“ _Yeah, you and your goddamned British bands_ ,” Lu Han says, still fondly, “ _if your goldfish memory can remember, was there anything you did or said that might make him think_ Yeaaaaa nope, Wu Yifan is not it?”

“Uh.” Yifan glances to his surroundings, to everybody else minding their own businesses and gets up. He takes the tray in one hand, and mumbles at Lu Han to wait as he hurries off to the waste bin counter and out the door. He didn’t bring his pack of Camel with him so he can’t go to the smoking area, which might not be a good idea after all. Some people might be fluent in Chinese. He’ll just go to the small park at the back of the building.

“Lu? Still there?”

“ _Yo._ ”

“Sorry, I didn’t know where to go.”

“ _Damn, bro._ _Hit me._ ”

Yifan laughs, sitting on a red bench overlooking a small pond filled with koi fishes.

“Where were we?”

“ _Did you do anything? Insulted his favorite girl group? Ate his favorite snack?_ ”

“I would never—” Yifan huffs, but his smile is uncontrollable and his shoulders are finally relaxed. He can sleep easy tonight, hopefully.

Lu Han hums at him to continue, followed by a sound of plastic being ripped open. He’s in his office, then, because Yifan knows that he stashes Haribo peaches in his top drawer. Yifan could use some sweets himself. He makes a mental note to stop by 7-11 later to buy Haribo. And ice cream.

“Uh, right. We’ve been ‘faking’ our relationship for a couple of weeks. Good times. I slept with him just last Sunday,” Yifan pauses, frowning, because he thought saying what he’s going to say next would be hard. He unclenches his fist. “To keep it short, I’m starting to suspect that my heart doesn’t want to let him go.”

“ _Ah,_ ” Lu Han mutters, dragging the syllable but never berating Yifan for his feelings, like he understands, “ _you should tell him that._ ”

“I really should.”

“ _Dude. What’s stopping you?_ ”

“He’s avoiding me? I want to tell him but what if he completely shuts me off?”

“ _What if he rejects you, you mean._ ”

“Always so eloquent.”

“If _he rejects you, you can always ask once more. But once is enough. You’re smart, Yifan-ah, you just need to listen._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**15:09**

**Lu Han replied to the photo you sent**

Stfu hes fucken pretty lmao go get him wtf

Shit I want to kiss him idk lol

 

**15:10**

**Lu Han**

Minseok says hi~

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s 5 o’clock. On a Friday. Yifan hasn’t had the sweets he’s craving and he’s certainly out of his mind when he calls,

“Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun’s smile is cute, Yifan has to give him that. And look at the hypothetical, wagging tail and the natural puppy eyes this kid possesses.

“Yes, sunbaenim!” Baekhyun replies in a perky verbalization that never falters even when Yifan used his Mildly Serious Tone to him.

Yifan nods, feeling awkward all by himself for no reason, and says, “Walk with me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>   
> SHOUT OUT TO EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED ON 'is your way mine?'  
> my biggest thank you to you all, glad to interact and to reply to your amazing comments.
> 
> @yeolmisc :D  
> ya feel me?  
>   
> 


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